


An Open Letter to People

by Proudtobeinvisible



Series: I hate Life [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandonment, Abandonment Issues, Bad Friends, Heavy Angst, Letters, ME - Freeform, Mentions of Suicide, Parents, Self Hatred trying to turn into self love, The Writer has problems, anger more than sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proudtobeinvisible/pseuds/Proudtobeinvisible
Summary: Letters to people that are just causing me pain, it spans from toxic friends to just plain self hatred.  An open canvas to yell at people or abstractions that are making my life harder than it should be.





	1. Dear Parents, I still love you though

You stopped parenting me.

  
When I tried to come to you for help telling you I’m anxious and depressed and _I need help_ you told me to get over it.You told me I couldn’t be any of that.I needed help desperately and you denied me.

 

You just stopped, and I had no idea what to do.It took me imploding and my sister telling you I needed help before you even cared to ask me if I needed anything. 

 

All you cared about is if I had grades above sea level so I wouldn’t drown in mediocracy but you didn’t care I was already drowning in my own soul. 

 

I went through freshman, sophomore and most of junior year with you just in the sides.Taking me to scheduled appointments where you let me talk about my issues, and I thank you for that.But at the same time I needed the voice of my mom or my dad telling me it will be alright.

 

Telling me that you love me in this iteration of myself instead of making me want to rip my skin off.

 

It took a second implosion this time brought on CPS for you to care about me again.Throw me back in Thearapy and give me meds this time its all fine.  
  
And now you’re trying to care about me now my grades aren’t too hot. Telling me that I need to change and the thing is I don’t need you anymore.

 

I can handle my grades. 

 

I can handle my health.

 

I can handle my social life.

 

I can handle my transgender-ness even though you can’t.

 

I have handled so much without you that I don’t need you anymore.

 

I don’t want to let you go though, that’s why I put off driving for so long. 

 

But now I just see

 

I don’t need nor want you in my life anymore. You are the number one source of stress, anxiety and depression in my life and once I am free of you I will never look back.

 

I don’t hate you. Nor do I love you.

 

I am simply indifferent to you.

 

You are nothing to me anymore. 

 

I want to be sorry but would you be sorry for letting a stranger out of your life?

 

Cause truth is that’s all I am to you now. I’m a stranger who you don’t have any connection with.

_Sincerely yours,_

_Someone You Used to Know_

 

_ps. I still love you_


	2. Dear I don't know what to call you anymore:

I’m not going to ask for answers or for anything like that. I just want like to say my peace and never talk to you again.  So here I go; 

 

I was so worried about you during the summer, I didn’t know if you were okay or not. Like I was worried if you committed suicide, I texted you and pretended to be worried about rides instead of you because I didn’t know who had your phone and didn’t want you to get into more trouble if you were. Then I hear from someone else that you asked her out, and like I’m hurt? Cause like you obviously are talking to her and not me, and idk what I did wrong. I’m really hurt by that and you know I shouldn’t be? Cause like if I meant as much as you said I did, I wouldn’t of been scared to all hell by the radio silence I got. Fuck, I shouldn’t of gotten it at all. I’m saying is that I’m not hard to find, I’m very obviously here. But l just am hurt by this and I’m not okay with that.

 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, I heard loud and clear. You don’t want me in your life, and it is going to take some time for me to want you out of mine. I want to wish you the best because that’s the person I want to be. But the truth is, despite everything, I want pain to be in your life. But that’s a type of cruel I don’t want to be anymore. So I’ve said my peace, although I never plan of seeing you again, some small part of me wants you to see this. To like see that fucking pain you put me through, you don’t do that to someone you love, and you said to me you love me.  

 

So, like goodbye, and I hope you know it pains me to say this cause I know you don’t deserve this; I forgive you. I don’t know what you went through, I accept that, but I forgive you. Pain shouldn’t be this all consuming, pain shouldn’t bring me down this far. So an attempt to be better than the person I am so I can get to the person I want to be, so this is my last kindness to you; I forgive you, and I wish you a good life.

 

 

_Sincerely yours,_

 

_Someone not important enough for you_

 

_ps, fuck you_


	3. To My Own God; I'll get to you one day

I’m sorry I’m not enough, I’m sorry, I’m not what you want to be.I am so fucking sorry that I’m not a good person.I’m trying so hard and I can’t be it.I really can’t, I change my nature more than a lion go vegan.I’m not enough for anyone not even me.There’s just not enough of me anymore, just sadness and anger and pain that’s all that I am.I want to be so much more and I’ve tried so hard to be a person I can be proud of but I’m too much of everything that people don’t want and too little of what they do. I’m so wrung dry I don’t know if there is anything inside of me anymore.Like a desert, if I try to get water again I will be destroyed.I just want to be enough but there isn’t enough of me.And I’m afraid there will never be enough of me. I don’t even want to be enough for someone else, I just need to be enough for _me_.I just need to be able to look in the mirror and think I am proud to be this person. That I am somehow the best possible version of myself I can be.But like I can’t be? I never can be because if I was then three fucking years of therapy and fighting to be better than I am would have worked so far.But so much I find myself at square one where I can’t fucking look at me, and I want to be the one I love most in my life.I want to be able to love myself, and I feel it somedays?I feel like I am so much that my skin cannot contain all I am or all I will be.I feel like if I said to part the Red Sea I would be able to.Like if somehow I can be my own god, I can be the divine force that loves myself so completely utterly and totally that’d I die for myself. That somehow that there is some shred of divinity would be enough for me.That it’d make me enough for me. 

 

But I’m fucking trying, I’m trying to make myself into my own god.I am trying to find the same devotion that I give to my pen and my ink and press some if it into my skin.To give myself more than what I am.I am trying to love myself so much and I am trying to become a person that I can be proud of.I am trying so hard to reintroduce water to a desert, turn it into a ocean. I’m trying so hard and I am going to do it.I am going to make myself into my own god and devote my life to myself.

 

I am going to be enough for myself one day, and I will be **glorious**.

 

 

_From,_

 

_The Desert Trying To Be an ocean_

 

_PS.  You will one day know my touch as holy_


	4. Fuck You and Your Love

_Dear Painter,_

 

I can’t imagine what it was like when you heard my heartbeat first.I can’t imagine what it was like when you first held me in your arms.

 

But I can tell you what it is like now.

 

You always say your love is unconditional, but I feel like your love is not.Because your love is on the condition that I say what you imagined.

 

The sweet little girl with the princess dress that really was a poodle dress that never had a care in the world.

 

Not the anxiety riddled boy that the princess dress no longer fits that is too worried about anything and everything. 

 

I imagine myself to be like the Painting Girl, a story I can’t bring myself to write because it mirrors what I am too closely.

 

Someone had loved and created something only to hate it when it was in practice.

 

I am the painting girl and you are the painter.

 

Only you are a painter that tries and tries to fit me into the painting you had before. And I try and try to hold on to the painting girl.You want me so desperately to be what you want but I can’t.I’m evil, I’m selfish, I am cruel.

 

I am not kind. I never was kind in any sense of the world. 

 

I am not kind.

 

But I try to be, I try to be to please the painter but I am not kind.

 

I am not what you want.

 

If you could leave me, choose another one to paint you would.

 

I feel that as deep as anything in my bones.I know it like the stars will shine and the earth will spin.

 

You would chose my sister again and again, but when it comes to me you would give me up in a heartbeat.

 

Time after time after time.

 

I am nothing to you but something that a god gave you that you cannot and will not comprehend.

 

I want to be sorry, I truly do. But I cannot. Will not.

 

You choose to love the imagined and try to make me, something real and tangible into what is imagined.

 

I am not imagined.

 

You love the idea but hate the practice.

 

So that is why when you say I love you, I tell you you don’t.

 

Because you don’t love me, you never loved me.You love what you imagine and want me to be.  That is why I spare my father and sister the extent of that venom, they have never claimed their love is unconditional, only that I have it now. 

 

You do not love me. But claim you do, the reason for my venom. 

 

You have never loved what is actually me, but what you wanted to be me. 

 

_From,_

_The Painting Boy._

 

_ps: I do not wish to know love from you._


	5. ______

Dear 

 

I was going to write you a letter, but you don’t deserve one. 

 

Sincerely yours, 

No one to you

 

PS you’re not important enough to me anymore to have feelings.


	6. I know loss

Dear Painters,

Don’t say I don’t know loss because you haven’t died yet. Someone I loved died too, and she fucking blamed me in the note. I have someone else’s blood on my hands and I’m not even 18 years old. Don’t fucking say that I don’t know lost when the first person I fell in love with isn’t here with me and I’m the reason why. You can’t fucking tell me that I don’t know pain, I had to call someone to talk me out of slitting my wrists and letting myself bleed out. You never had to tell yourself that despite you’re a waste of space and oxygen that you have a right to live. You never had to be at. A constant war with yourself not to die. You can’t say I don’t know loss when I learned it before you did.

I tried to kill myself three different times and you know nothing about all three of them. Don’t tell me I don’t know about loss because after each time I was too coward to go through with it I cried so badly and was unable to express anything at all. But this intense mourning and pain that I was still breathing. Don’t tell me about loss.

I know about loss too, I know it and please stop telling me I’m separate and apart from it.Please stop telling me I only care about myself when the only reason I stopped myself from swallowing the pills, stopped myself from slitting my wrists, stopped myself from hanging myself was because I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Please stop telling me this when you don’t know everything. I am seventeen years old, stop putting on me the weight of the pain you have because you decided to have me. Stop please, just ask me for help and stop making me think that maybe I should have killed myself when I had the chance. Just please, stop talking about how much of a burden you are having to take because I came into existence.

I know loss, I know pain, please stop telling me I know nothing. Please stop stop making me wish I stopped breathing when I had the chance. Please stop treating me as a burden. Just please stop.

Sincerely yours,

The painting boy

 

ps. did i make the right choice? Answer me. 


End file.
